Have a biscuit, Potter
by Local Ghosty
Summary: Professor McGonagall paused. "No, Albus, they're plainly a terrible family and they'll treat him terribly. You are not going to leave this child with them." Dumbledore looked surprised. "Well, can you suggest an alternative?" And the words popped out of her mouth before she could think about them. "I can take him." UPDATES WILL BE VERY SLOW.


It was only when the stranger arrived at Privet Drive that the cat moved. It had been sitting there all day; more than one person had mistaken it for a statue. Certainly no one had had any suspicious thoughts about it. No one seemed to notice that the cat was reading the signs, or that the markings around its eyes resembled glasses.

Late at night was when the stranger arrived. He was dressed in long, flowing robes, a purple cape, and high-heeled and buckled boots. Nothing like this man had ever set foot Privet Drive. His name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter. He held it up, opened it, and flicked it. The nearest streetlight went out. He did it twelve more times, and the street was shrouded in darkness.

The cat arched its back, leapt off the wall and made its way down the street to Dumbledore. He did not appear surprised by this but smiled and said, "I should have known," and glanced away from the cat. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

When he looked back, the cat was gone. In its place was a woman wearing green robes, square glasses, and a severe expression. "How did you know it was me?" she said.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff too, if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day." Professor McGonagall said. The two of them began to walk down Privet Drive.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on the way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right. You'd think they'd have more sense, already the Muggles have noticed. Shooting stars down in Kent, and owls flying everywhere.."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had so little to celebrate the last eleven years."

"I suppose so," sighed Professor McGonagall. "But a fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who has gone, the Muggles found out all about us. I suppose he _has_ gone, Albus?"

"Minerva, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? There is nothing to fear in a name. I can say it and you can be sure he will not descend upon us. _Voldemort._"

"But he has gone?" she persisted. "I heard rumors, people were walking around in broad daylight and not even dressed in Muggle clothing...They were saying he's vanished-has he, Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded. Professor McGonagall went on. "If _that's _true...if the rumors that the most powerful Dark wizard of all time has vanished are true...It seemed so impossible…If _he _can be gone...I heard…I heard someone saying...the Potters...they're dead."

Again Dumbledore nodded. Professor McGonagall gasped. "I couldn't believe it...I didn't want to believe it...Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "Minerva...I know, Minerva…" he said.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she started to speak again. "But that wasn't all...I heard someone saying he tried to kill their son. But-he couldn't. They're saying that when he tried, his power somehow broke-and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore bowed his head.

"It's-true?" stuttered Professor McGonagall. "After everyone he's killed...he couldn't kill a little child? How in heaven's name did the boy do it, Albus?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore softly. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Dumbledore wiped at his eyes as he took a golden watch out of his pocket. It had twelve hands and no numbers: instead, little moons and planets were moving around the edge.

It seemed to make sense to Dumbledore, because he replaced it in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here tonight?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose you'll tell me _why _you're here?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle, the Dursleys. They're the only remaining family he has."

"You can't _possibly _mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall. They were standing in front of number four now, and Dumbledore appeared to be waiting for something. "Albus, I've been watching them all day, and you won't find people who are less like us! I saw their son kicking his own mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. And I'm sure they won't be good for him-he'll be insecure, afraid...You want to put an innocent child into a situation like _that?_"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment a rumbling filled the air. It grew steadily louder and louder until it was a roar-and an enormous motorbike fell out of the air and landed in front of number four, Privet Drive.

The motorbike was huge, but it was nothing compared to the man sitting on it. He was at least twice as tall as a normal person, and three times as wide. He had long tangles of black hair and a bushy black beard that hid most of his face. He would have looked positively frightening if the eyes that peeked out from the tangled hair didn't have a kindly twinkle in them, and if he wasn't carrying a small white bundle with the utmost tenderness. "Evening, Professor Dumbledore," he said in a deep, gruff voice.

"Ah, Hagrid. At last. And you have Sirius Black's motorcycle. A wise choice of transportation. Do you have Harry?"

"I do, sir," said Hagrid, "no trouble at all. House was near destroyed but I got him out before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep around Bristol." He handed the small white bundle to Professor Dumbledore.

"Excellent," Dumbledore began, but Professor McGonagall interrupted him.

"Thank you, Hagrid, goodnight," she said briskly.

"Erm-well, goodnight, then, Professor McGonagall-Professor Dumbledore, sir." And Hagrid mounted the motorbike and turned the engine on; with a roar it sped off.

Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall. "Well, Minerva, what do you have to say that is so important that it can't be said in front of our good friend Hagrid?" There was an edge to his voice.

"Sorry," she said. "But Albus, please think about what you're doing. The little I've seen of the Dursleys today is enough to convince me that you're making a terrible decision. The boy hit his own mother, and I know he knew what he was doing. If a one-year old boy can hit his own mother, I shudder to think of what that boy will do to Harry."

"It will make him strong," said Dumbledore. "And-"

"Strong? _Strong?_" Professor McGonagall gave a derisive laugh. "Or it might turn him into a cowering, bullied child who has insecurities and fears everything! There are so many better places he could go, wizarding families that were close to the Potters-the Weasleys, for instance, they're a wonderful family, or perhaps-"

"Minerva, I do not want him growing up in the Wizarding world. Imagine, knowing everything that happened to him-it would turn any boy's head! You say that this family will neglect him; I say it is better to be neglected than to be spoiled and proud."

"It's not just that they'll neglect him! I saw the man, Vernon Dursley, turn up his nose and sneer at a black woman walking down the street. He called her all kinds of unspeakable things, things that would make a sailor blush. And his wife-that Petunia person-she peeps into the neighbors' houses and mutters rude things about them. And that son-like I've said, I'm quite sure he'll punch Harry black and blue. You want Harry to be raised in _that?_" Professor McGonagall paused for breath. "No, Albus, they're plainly a terrible family and they'll treat him terribly. You are _not _going to leave this child with them."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Well, can you suggest an alternative?"

And then the words popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them. "I can take him."

* * *

"Minerva!"

In all my years of knowing him, thought Minerva, I have never seen him look so shocked. "Yes," she said aloud. "You don't want him to become vain? Fine. I can tell you I won't let him become vain. I won't let him become vain, and I won't let him be lonely, and I can assure you no one will ever hit him, yell at him, or abuse him in any way. Because I'm quite sure that's what those Dursley folks will do to him."

The shocked look was fading off of Dumbledore's face, replaced by a slight smile. "Minerva," he said, "I thought you didn't believe in fortune-telling."

"Do _not _make light of the situation, Albus!" cried Minerva. "This is not a joking matter, I do believe you'd make a joke on your deathbed-"

"Shh!" said Dumbledore. "The Muggles will hear you!"

"Sorry," said Minerva. "But really, Albus! You want to leave this baby in a place that you know full well will do nothing for him! Oh, it'll keep him from being vain, I'm sure, but there are other things that matter! Self-esteem, for one, and _health _for another! You want to risk all that for the sake of _preserving humility? _This is Lily Potter's child, and Lily was the sweetest, most humble girl I ever taught."

"James was-"

"Oh, stop grasping at straws, Albus. I'm right and you know I am."

Minerva waited for Dumbledore to make a decision. She knew she was in the right here. She didn't give a single thought as to how she was going to raise him. She only knew she couldn't let him go to those-Muggles.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "All right, Minerva, you can take him. You've had many, many students in Gryffindor House, and none of them ever spoke badly of you. I trust you to raise him fairly."

Minerva reached out to take the small bundle. "Thank you, Albus," she said.

"You do know what you're getting yourself into, right?" said Dumbledore warningly. "You're quite sure you want this? It would be a lot easier-"

"And quite a lot less safe. I know what I'm doing, Albus."

"All right, Minerva. Best of luck."

And Minerva McGonagall Disapparated.

* * *

**okay hi so you may be wondering WHAT IN THE CRAP HAPPENED WHAT KIND OF UPDATE IS THIS and I am here to tell you I made quite a major plot change that forced me to take what I had for the beginning of Chapter 2 and stick it onto the end of Chapter 1. For those of you that wanted fluffiness about Harry growing up through the years with Minerva-sorry. That isn't happening, mainly because I couldn't figure out how to write it. There were just too many things to work around, and I am not a fan of stories where someone waves a wand and poof! there's everything you need to raise a baby, and a nursery, and-no. Again, sorry to those of you who wanted growing-up fluff. Chapter 2 will pick up ten years later, when Harry actually starts Hogwarts. **

**~DaughterOfIris23**


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